


Cream

by TheBroodyElf



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Celebrities, Classism, Dragon Age AU, F/M, Fluff, Irish Coffee, Romance, Smut, da:i AU, dragon age: inquisition AU, hot bodyguard, paparrazi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-09
Updated: 2015-05-28
Packaged: 2018-03-17 02:41:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3512174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBroodyElf/pseuds/TheBroodyElf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dragon Age Kink Meme prompt- Cullen as F!Trev's bodyguard. Maybe F!Trev is a celebrity or like a politicians adult kid? I've a strong preference for purple/snarky Trev (warrior to but as it's modern AU class doesn't really matter). </p><p>Bonus:<br/>+1 for Ugly Duckling Syndrome Cullen +1 if he doesn't know it<br/>+1 If F!Trev has mad flirt game<br/>+1 For slow build +++++For slow build but she flirts from day one.<br/>+1 Coffee dates. (Especially if Cullen keeps sneaking Irish coffee in and/or making his coffee Irish)<br/>+1 The press assuming they're together before they are.<br/>+1 Cullen is still a Disney Prince<br/>+1 Classism is part of the issue. (+++She doesn't care about their class difference despite him being such a lower class.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Vogue

“Urgh, I feel like I've been in this damned car _forever_. Can't you drive this thing any faster, Cullen?”

Evelyn's eyes flash up to the rear view mirror to see her bodyguard's golden-brown eyes lock onto hers.

“Not unless you want us to get another speeding ticket today,” he replies wryly.

The young woman rolls her eyes and grumbles as she slumps back onto her seat and examines her freshly manicured nails.

“See, this is why I hate Val Royeaux,” she mutters bitterly. “All this fucking _traffic_.”

A small smile plays on her lips when she hears the light chuckle from the driver's seat.

Fact: Evelyn _loves_ it when Cullen chuckles. Or laughs. Or smiles. Or does pretty much anything, actually. Not that he _knows_. Nope. The man hasn't got a clue. And it isn't for Evelyn's lack of trying, either; the woman is an unabashed, first class flirt.

Her gaze glides over to Cullen's arms, and the little smile makes a reappearance on her heavily glossed lips as she admires the flex of his forearm muscles as they move around the steering wheel. She flips her hair over her shoulder in an exaggerated move to attract his attention in the rear view mirror again. The flash of gold that locks onto her tells her she was successful.

“You're very quiet,” she comments coyly, scooting closer to the centre of the backseat. “Are you always this way?”

He'd only been assigned to her as a bodyguard a few days ago. She doesn't really know much about him other than him being some sort of boxing champion until a year ago.

“Uhh...I...I suppose so? Do you want me to turn up the radio?”

“No,” she smiles, leaning forward and close enough to smell his cologne. “I wanna talk. With _you_. Unless you can't drive and talk at the same time?”

She sees him sneak a glance at her from the corner of his eye, now that she's too close to see in the rear view mirror.

“What would you like to talk about?” he asks hesitantly, keeping his eyes fixed on the road.

“Oh, I don't know,” Evelyn drawls. “How about...you? I should get to know my bodyguard a little better, seeing as we're practically joined at the hip now.”

She can literally see the blood rush up to the tips of his ears.

“All right,” he replies. “Anything in particular you want to--”

His phone starts ringing and vibrating in the car's cup-holder, and he presses against the wireless earpiece in his right ear.

“Cullen speaking,” he responds, his hesitant and awkward manner now replaced with stern professionalism. His eyes narrow as he listens to whatever it is his caller has to say. “I see. Thanks for that, Rylen. I'll take a detour.”

“What is it?” Evelyn asks when he disconnects the call.

“Paparazzi are flooding the front entrance to the talk show venue,” he replies. “I'm going to have to take you in through the back entrance.”

“Oh _no_ ,” Evelyn groans and falls back against her seat, resting her head against the tinted glass. “The fucking movie isn't even _out_ yet.”

“Don't worry,” Cullen says in a calming voice. “They're not expecting us to come from the back.”

“I certainly fucking hope not,” she grumbles and scowls out at the city.

When she notices Cullen slowing down, she pulls out her makeup mirror and checks her reflection.

“Okay,” he parks the in a secluded loading bay and turns around to face her. “Are you ready?”

“Let's just get this over with.”

He chuckles again, the sound sending a thrill through Evelyn's insides. She opens the passenger door and steps out into the cool, evening of the Orlesian capital, gathering her Burberry coat around her for warmth as Cullen shrugs into his black suit jacket.

That Rylen guy was right; the back is completely deserted apart from the two of them.

“Come on,” Cullen places a protective hand in the small of Evelyn's back and escorts her into the building. He blocks Evelyn from view when they walk into the reception to summon an elevator. They promptly take it up to the talk show studio on the twenty-fifth floor.

As soon as they step out, a man clad in an expensive grey suit jumps up from a settee and greets them with wide-eyed relief.

“It's about fucking time!” he calls out before taking Evelyn in his arms for a quick hug and peck on the cheek. It doesn't slip Evelyn's notice that the man eyes Cullen with great interest.

“I'm sorry I'm late, Dorian,” Evelyn apologies as she allows him to lead her into the green room, with Cullen trailing behind them. “Fucking Val Royeaux and its traffic. You know how it is.”

“You're here now, so it doesn't matter,” he smiles before sneaking a quick glance at Cullen over his shoulder. “But who on earth is that _fine_ specimen you brought along with you? The latest beau?” He wriggles his eyebrows like a villain straight out of a children's cartoon series.

“Shh! He's right there!” Evelyn nearly pinches Dorian in the thigh. “He's my new bodyguard. Cullen.”

“My, but he is _strapping_ ,” Dorian whispers as he holds open the door to the green room open. “You'll have to tell me all about him later.”

Evelyn smirks in response, her eyes sweeping over the tall, curly-haired blond when he steps into the green room soon after her. She smiles coyly and looks away when he glances up and meets her gaze. She was never a fan of getting a personal bodyguard to begin with. Too much restriction, she thought. It was only at the insistence of her manager that she finally relented. And how _extremely_ glad she is that she did.

Before getting whisked away onstage by Dorian's television crew, she pulls out her phone and composes a quick text message to her manager.

**So the bodyguard you chose for me? I didn't know Vogue was auctioning off its models for personal guard duty.**

Her phone buzzes a few second later.

**Varric: told you you wouldn't regret it. Nobody knows you like I do, babe. Now you owe me a drink.**

Evelyn laughs at the response, her eyes quickly flitting over to Cullen before sending a reply.

**Make it five.**


	2. Latte

“Are you all right, Miss Trevelyan?”

Evelyn looks away from the city as it rolls by through the passenger window and sees Cullen's eyes watching her in the rear view mirror.

“Yeah,” she smiles weakly, her posture slightly perking up. “It's been a long day, that's all.”

While that _is_ true, it isn't the truth in its entirety.

Fact #2: Evelyn Trevelyan finds Cullen distracting.

 _Very_ distracting, in fact. Distracting enough to make her momentarily lose her chain of thought in the middle of her televised interview with Dorian when she glanced at him as he silently watched next to one of the camera men.

“Holy shit.”

As they drive by their hotel, they see a swarm of paparazzi stationed outside, snapping at some celebrity who has apparently just arrived.

“We'll try the back,” Cullen says, his jaw tensing as his eyes sweep over the cameras.

Turns out that too is a no-go.

“Shit,” Evelyn swears as she glares at the waiting paparazzi. “Shit, shit, _shit_.”

“It's all right,” Cullen tells her in a soothing voice. “I've handled worse before, trust me.”

She gazes at the blond hair on the nape of his neck, some of which has started to curl as his mousse or gel or whatever it is he uses on his hair starts to wear off.

“No, let's just drive around a bit. They're only here because of whoever that woman we saw at the front entrance was. They'll grow tired and wait outside the clubs eventually.”

“As you wish,” he smiles.

 _Urgh, that Fereldan accent of his. Makes me weak in the knees, Maker_.

Acting on an impulse, Evelyn climbs over the arm rest and slides into the front passenger seat, grinning at the surprised look on Cullen's face. Her short skirt hitches up further, revealing more of her shapely thighs, and she blushes when she notices him sneaking a side glance at her legs from the corner of his eye.

“Ah, _La Caféothèque_ is still open!” Evelyn exclaims when they drive by a cozy little coffee shop. “How about a coffee? I could do with some coffee.”

His eyes flash to her face, brow rising in surprise.

“Coffee at eight in the evening?” he asks, his gaze back on the road.

“I'm pretty much immune to caffeine at this point,” she smiles. “You can have something else if you want. Do you even _like_ coffee?”

It's easy to forget how much of a stranger this ridiculously beautiful man still is to her.

“I do,” he smiles. “And I'm quite immune to it as well, to be honest.”

Her smile widens when their eyes briefly meet again. That smile, however, is promptly wiped away when it suddenly stars pouring outside.

“Another reason to hate Val Royeaux,” she glowers as he turns off the engine. “The weather is just so unpredictable.”

“Wait here,” he instructs her before sliding out of the car and running to the boot. A few seconds later, he opens her door and stands to the side, holding up a large, black umbrella for her.

“Oh,” she blinks up at him and slides out of the car. “That was quick. Thank you.”

He smiles and nods, taking care to hold the umbrella directly over her head. She feels a fresh stream of butterflies fluttering about in her when he places his hand in the small of her back and ducks under the umbrella with her.

 _He's so tall. And those shoulders! If I didn't see him in just his shirt, I would've sworn he's got some serious shoulder pad action going on under that suit jacket_.

He opens the cafe door for her and steps aside, allowing her to walk in first, before he shuts his umbrella and shakes off the rain droplets.

“Ah! My dear Evelyn!” a tall, slender and stunning dark woman greets her from behind the counter. “What an unexpected surprise!”

“Vivienne!” Evelyn beams and hurries towards the woman to kiss her on both cheeks. “So good to see you again! You're keeping the cafe open till late now?”

“Yes, my dear,” Vivienne smiles. “I added a dinner menu recently. It's done wonders for the establishment.”

“That's great!”

“My, but you look utterly _gorgeous_ , my darling,” Vivienne remarks, her eyes scanning Evelyn appreciatively from head to toe. “I was just watching you getting interviewed by that Dorian fellow on television. Marvelous job evading those uncomfortable questions, my dear. He can be so _nosy_ sometimes. Ah, and who is this? A friend of yours?”

Evelyn smiles up at Cullen when he stands by her side, keeping a respectable distance between them.

“This is my new bodyguard, Cullen. Cullen, this is Madame Vivienne de Fer, owner of this little establishment.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Madame,” he smiles and bows his head politely.

 _Holy fuck, he's like a prince straight out of those Disney movies we all grew up watching_.

“The pleasure is all mine, my dear,” Vivienne smiles. “So, will it be the usual for you, darling?”

“Yes, just a cappuccino, please. In my favourite large mug.”

“Of course. And you, my dear?” she asks Cullen.

“A latte, thanks.”

“One cappuccino and one latte, coming right up.”

“Come on,” Evelyn beckons Cullen and leads him to a candle-lit table in the corner. He clears his throat and sits down across the round marble table from her, his eyes awkwardly darting around the cafe.

“A latte, hmm?” she murmurs, her eyes appraising him closely. “Is that your favourite?”

His eyes flicker over to her, his pale skin visibly turning a faint shade of pink when their eyes lock.

“Not really,” he replies. “I'm more of an Irish coffee person, actually. But seeing as I'm on duty tonight...”

“One cup won't kill you.”

“Actually, I'm not that much of a drinker,” he professes with a crooked smile that makes Evelyn almost bite down on her lower lip. “You'd be surprised how low my tolerance is when it comes to alcohol. Besides, I would never risk your safety, no matter how minimal the risk."

 _Maker's mercy. He talks like an eighteenth century prince_. _For fuck's sake, he_ looks _like an eighteenth century prince. An incredibly sexy one. And in a suit, no less. Fuck, did he just catch me staring? He just caught me staring at him, didn't he?_

“Here you are, my dears,” Vivienne's silky voice drifts into Evelyn's ear and rouses her from her thoughts. “One cappuccino for you, my darling, and a latte for you, monsieur.”

“Thank you,” he smiles politely.

“Thanks, Viv,” Evelyn beams up at the striking woman before taking a sip of her beverage. She waits until Vivienne is out of earshot before speaking. “So...to pick up where we left off before the talk show; tell me about yourself. You sound Fereldan. Is that where you're from?”

“It is,” he nods after a sip of his latte.

“And what did you do back there?”

“I was a soldier in the army, actually,” he replies, his fingers drumming against the mug in his large hands. “Special Forces.”

“Woah,” Evelyn's eyes widen. “Special Forces. That's..that's amazing! But wait... I thought Varric told me you were a champion boxer?”

“Oh. That.” He smiles and takes another sip, licking the coffee off his lips before proceeding. “That was more of a hobby. It wasn't a career or anything of the sort.”

“Ah,” Evelyn nods and sits back, her eyes now focusing on the vertical scar on his upper lip. “Is that how you got _that?_ ”

He blinks at her before catching her meaning.

“What, my scar? No. I got this while on deployment. Some shrapnel from a blast.”

“Tell me about it.”

He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, his eyes flickering down to his mug.

“I...I'd prefer not to,” he replies awkwardly. “It isn't exactly a time I want to relive.”

“Of course! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry.”

He slowly gazes back up at her, a small smile tugging at the corner of his full lips.

“It's all right,” he murmurs. “I'm used to being asked about it. The scar, I mean.”

“It's cool,” Evelyn tells him softly. “I like it.”

She smiles when she sees the colour quickly flood back to his cheeks and ears. He clears his throat and shifts around in his seat again, his eyes awkwardly darting around the cafe.

“This uhh...this is a nice place,” he comments.

 _Maker's breath, he's such a dork. In a good way, I mean. In an adorable way_.

“Yeah, it is,” Evelyn stretches and joins him in looking around at the very elegant Orlesian decorations and furniture. “Vivienne's done an excellent job with it.”

“Does she own it?” he asks.

“She does. I've been a regular ever since I first came across it two years ago. She makes excellent coffee, don't you think?”

“She does,” he nods in agreement and takes a sip as though to emphasise his answer. Evelyn flips her hair and rests her elbows on the round table, scooting closer to him.

“Maybe we could drop by for an Irish coffee one day?” she suggests with a smile. “When you're not on active guard duty?”

Another one of his crooked smiles tugs at his lips, and Evelyn could almost swear that the colour in his cheeks deepens.

“I...I'd like that,” he murmurs.

“Me too,” Evelyn smiles, losing herself in the depths of his kind and slightly tired eyes.

 _Maker, they're so golden_.

They spend more than a few moments like that, until the sound of a bell ringing as another customer steps into the cafe rouses them from their trance-like state.

Cullen sits up and clears his throat awkwardly, his eyes flickering towards the glass wall to look outside.

“It's stopped raining,” he comments softly.

“It has,” Evelyn nods, forcing her gaze away from his face. “We should get back to the hotel. I'm...I'm tired.”

“Of course,” he smiles, reaching down to pull out his wallet from his pocket.

“It's okay, I'll get it--” Evelyn starts to protest, but he ignores her, placing enough money to cover both their coffees and a generous tip to the proprietor.

“Please,” he says. “Allow me.”

She falters under his steady gaze, her bones turning into the consistency of marshmallows.

“O-okay. But the next one is on me.”

His eyebrows flash up for a fraction of a second, clearly surprised by the fact that there even _will_ be a next one.

“If you insist,” he smiles.

They wave their goodbyes to Vivienne, who is busy chatting away in rapid Orlesians on her phone, and get back into their black Mercedes, with Evelyn once again taking the front passenger seat. She smiles to herself and feels a slight jolt in her stomach when she sees the pleased look on Cullen's face as he starts the engine.

The brief drive back to the hotel is spent in silence, with nothing but the low tunes of the radio playing in the background. In the very short time that Evelyn has known Cullen, she has already learned that he is not one for idle chatter. So she rests her head against the window, staring out at the brightly-lit city as they zoom past it, the streetlights luminously reflected on the wet roads in the aftermath of the rain.

“Good, the paparazzi seem to be all gone,” Cullen murmurs as he drives towards the lobby. He comes at a halt right outside it, but Evelyn doesn't move even when the valet opens her door and greets her.

“Aren't you coming?” she asks.

“I am,” he smiles. “I just need to park the car first. The valets always take too long to bring it back to me when I need it.”

“Okay,” she murmurs and sets out one foot onto the ground. “Goodnight, then, Cullen.”

“Goodnight, Miss Trevelyan.”

“Evelyn,” she corrects him as she slides out of the car. She catches the flood of colour painting his cheeks before gently shutting the door behind her and making her way into the hotel, a private little smile plastered onto her lips.

“Good evening, Lady Trevelyan,” the hotel manager greets her from behind the reception desk. “I trust you've had a good day today?”

“I certainly did, Monsieur Gaspard,” she smiles as she summons an elevator. “I most certainly did.”


	3. Polo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my apologies for the very late update, guys! i've just been really busy with 'real-life' shit, as usual. hope you like this update and thanks for reading! xxx

Evelyn can't stop smiling as she rides the elevator up to her suite. She doesn't even know why; it's not as though something actually _happened_ between her and Cullen. But a woman has her instincts, does she not? Evelyn talks to countless men on any given day, some which have displayed a very blatant interest in her, but none of them were like Cullen. Not a single one. There was something about the way he looked at her... there was none of that greed and perversion that other men regarded her with. There is something about him-- an innocence and awkwardness that she would have never expected to find in a hardened ex-Special Forces soldier who literally looks like a photoshopped runway model fresh out of Vogue Italia.

Distracted by her thoughts, Evelyn fumbles with her access card and scans it to unlock her suite door. She kicks off her heels as soon as she's in, cursing whoever invented the torture devices under her breath as she strips off her white ( _faux_ ) leather skirt, her white halter top and black leather (once again _faux_ ) jacket. She then stumbles into the bathroom, suddenly feeling more exhausted than she'd anticipated. She washes off her makeup and brushes her teeth, studying her reflection as she does so.

 _I wonder how he sees me_. _Am I as beautiful to him as he is to me? Or am I just another star he's guarding, just going through the motions of the job and smiling and nodding politely because he's a nice guy and makes his living off of me?_

A soft knock on the door rouses her from her thoughts, and she hastily spits the toothpaste from her mouth and rinses.

“Miss Trevelyan?”

Her stomach performs a spectacular somersault, and she quietly tip toes to her suite door, pressing her ear against the little crack between the door and the door frame.

“Cullen?” she asks.

“Forgive me, did I wake you?”

“No,” Evelyn smiles to herself, his soft voice having a soothing affect on her. “I'd open the door, but I'm in my underwear.”

“Oh.” An awkward few seconds of silence ensue before he stammers “I-I just wanted to make sure you arrived at your suite and... uhh... see if you required anything else before you went to sleep.”

Grinning at his stammer, she decides to crack the door open and poke her head out. She nearly gasps when she realises how close he is standing to the door, and he immediately takes a step back, his hand flying up to rub the back of his neck.

“I seem to have arrived in one piece,” she smiles. He returns the smile, the tips of his ears turning bright red.

“So I see,” he murmurs. She blushes when she notices his golden eyes flickering down to her exposed shoulder and collar bone before he clears his throat and quickly looks away. “All right, then. Good night, Miss Trevelyan.”

“Evelyn,” she corrects him for the second time this night. His smile widens, his eyes lingering on hers.

“I stand corrected,” he replies. “Goodnight, Evelyn.”

“Goodnight, Cullen.”

She watches him as he walks to the next room further along to her right, her heart skipping when he catches her gaze once again and shoots her his signature crooked smile. She slips back into her room and shuts the door behind her. Her insides tingling, she presses her back against the door and lets out an audible sigh, staring ahead of her into the city lights beyond the gigantic balcony glass.

_So, this is happening._

“Fuck,” she laughs darkly to herself as she makes her way to her king size bed. She sets her phone alarm for seven in the morning and places it on the bedside table before switching off the side lamp.

_Fuck, this is so happening all over again._

* * *

The next morning, Evelyn packs what little belongings she brought along for her tip to Val Royeaux in preparation for the train ride to the Frostbacks in Ferelden that afternoon. She dresses in low-key jeans and a strapless white top and slips on a pair of comfortable tan ballet flats, her feet still sore from the previous day's heels. She then proceeds to double check that she hasn't left anything behind in her room before folding the leather jacket from last night over her forearm and pulling her small designer suitcase behind her. In the elevator, she checks her reflection and adjusts her hair and clothing, knowing that Cullen will already be waiting for her in the lounge.

As the elevator doors slide open, she takes in a deep breath, the butterflies in her stomach making her feel slightly nauseated. She ignores the feeling and confidently struts to the lounges by the reception desk, and she can't help but beam when Cullen looks up at her from a magazine he was reading. His eyes widen momentarily when he sees her, and he sets aside the magazine and stands up, a smile tugging at his scarred lips.

Evelyn's eyes inadvertently sweep over him as she approaches him, taking in every detail from head to toe. He too is has decided to dress casually this morning, opting for a fitted white polo shirt with half-sleeves that _really_ highlight his toned and muscular arms ( _Maker, those biceps_ ), along with a pair of khaki trousers and brown Tod's Gommino leather driving shoes. Reflective Ray ban aviator shades hang from his undone collar.

 _Maker, the man puts fucking Adonis to shame_.

“Good morning, Cullen,” Evelyn greets him warmly, coming to a halt before him.

“Good morning, Miss—Evelyn,” he quickly corrects himself with a sheepish smile. “I've already checked us out of the hotel. We have a few hours before the train is due to leave.”

“Did you have breakfast yet?” she asks him.

“Not yet,” he smiles.

“Good. I'm starving. Wanna have breakfast here in the hotel?”

“If you wish to, then certainly,” he replies politely.

She rolls her eyes and places most of her weight on the hand leaning against her luggage.

“Why don't we forget about what _I_ wish and consider both our wishes as individuals for a change?” she asks him wryly.

He blinks at her, clearly taken aback by her words.

“I...I suppose I can manage that,” he concedes.

“Good,” Evelyn repeats with a small smile. “What does Cullen---what is your surname, anyway?”

“Rutherford.”

“Rutherford,” Evelyn samples it on her lips. "I like it. Sounds very... _regal_.”

He laughs darkly, reaching over to take her luggage from her and hand it to a concierge.

“I assure you, I am anything _but_ regal,” he says.

 _Oh, I beg to differ, Adonis_.

"All right, Mr Rutherford," she grins. "Breakfast?"

"It would be my pleasure," he smiles.

The way he talks...it takes Evelyn everything she has to not sigh and bat her lashes at him right then and there.

Walking side by side, as _equals_ , they proceed to make their way to the breakfast buffet and are led by a waitress to a table for two. It doesn't escape Evelyn's notice that every woman's eye is trained on Cullen, and some of them even had the audacity to literally _gawk_ at him.

 _Smooth, ladies_ , Evelyn shakes her head. _Très_ _smooth_.

“You're quite popular,” Cullen remarks as he takes his seat across from her, his eyes gazing around the restaurant.

“Hmm?”

“Some people here can't seem to take their eyes off you,” he says.

 _Huh? Uhh...no, buddy, it's_ you _they're looking at_.

“Really?” she flashes her eyebrows high, following his gaze around the area. “I haven't— _oh_.”

_Phone cameras._

_Those bloody phone cameras!_

“Do you want me to stop them?” Cullen asks her softly when she turns back to him, looking markedly uncomfortable.

“No, I don't want to be _that_ celebrity,” she replies. “This doesn't harm anyone. Let them take pictures if it makes them happy. I knew what I was signing up for when I started this profession.”

Cullen rests his chin on his interlocked fingers, his soft gaze lingering on Evelyn's face.

“That's very considerate of you,” he murmurs appreciatively. “Most famous people I've heard of or encountered are far more aggressive when it relates to their privacy.”

“Meh, what good would being aggressive do?” Evelyn shrugs. “I mean, yes, there is a limit that should not be crossed. If someone snapped a picture of me in my house, for example, I'd go ape shit on them and even sue them if they worked for a publication. But if I'm in public...honestly, that one picture probably makes their day. Who am I to deny them that?”

Cullen smiles warmly at her response, the corner of his eyes crinkling slightly. They sit there in silence for a few moments until Evelyn's anxiety takes the upper hand and prompts her to break it.

“Let's get some food, shall we?” she grins as she stands up to head to the buffet. Cullen follows suit and stands up, stepping back and gesturing with his arm for her to go first.

“After you,” he nods politely, and Evelyn can't help but picture him in a suit of armour when he does that.

“So chivalrous,” she smiles, feeling quite pleased when she sees the way his cheeks flush at her remark.

She makes her way to the buffet and picks up an empty plate, her eyes quickly scanning the food. Her stomach actually rumbles at the sight.

 _Whatever you do, don't pig out. Not in front of him. Not on the first time he ever sees you eat_.

Painfully aware of the fact that he is right behind her, Evelyn proceeds to ladle only the foods that she would most like to have, which is proving to be difficult, seeing as she likes to sample everything at least once. She settles for the safe eggs, bacon, sausage and a croissant assortment, taking care to keep her plate light. She then returns to their table, unfolding her napkin and draping it over her thighs. Cullen soon returns with his plate, which contains more or less the same of what Evelyn settled for, except his portion is far more generous and includes a bowl of fresh fruit on the side.

“Bon appétit!” Evelyn smiles and picks up her cutlery, her mouth positively salivating by now. She only manages to get in a few mouthfuls of sausage and egg before her phone starts vibrating on the table. Seeing Varric's name on the screen, she quickly sets her cutlery down and answers the phone, dabbing at her mouth with her napkin as she does so.

“Tethras! I was wondering when you'd start hounding me!”

“Evelyn, are you still at the hotel?” his raspy voice, which is usually light and cheerful, sounds far more serious than she'd like on the other side of the phone.

“Yeah, Cullen and I just started on our breakfast,” she responds, her brow furrowing as she exhanges a glance with her bodyguard. “Why?”

“Got a newspaper or tabloid magazine around?”

“Uhh...no, but I can get one from the lobby.”

“You might uhh...you might want to be away from people when you see this, though.”

Evelyn's eyebrows flash high up as she rises from her seat, Cullen's eyes closely studying her.

“See _what_ , Varric?” she hisses into the phone. “You're starting to freak me out, here.”

Varric lets out a heavy sigh before he responds wearily.

“Look, it's not as serious as you're probably thinking right now,” he says. “In fact, it might not even bother you. I just need you to look at it and get back to me so I can know how to deal with it if you're _not_ happy.”

“Okay...” Evelyn says, feeling mildly exasperated by her manager's riddling. “I'll grab a tabloid and have a look. Talk soon.”

She swiftly strides to the lobby and scans the newspaper and magazine stack. It takes her less than a second to spot a very well-known tabloid magazine, which she snatches to scan the cover. When her eyes drift to the lower right corner of the glossy cover, she gasps in horror, her fingers going limp around the magazine.

Right there, right on the cover of one of the most celebrated tabloid magazines in existence, is a picture of her and Cullen on the impromptu coffee 'date' they had the night prior. Beneath it, ' _Trevelyan snags herself mysterious hunky blond!'_  is splashed across the cover in bright pink, demanding the attention of everyone who may happen upon the magazine, even people who are much less predisposed to reading this crap that some people call news.

 _Shit_.

She quickly places the magazine back on the stack, deliberately placing it with the back cover facing up, and makes her way back to Cullen, trying her best to compose her expression and keep her anger under control.

“Is everything all right?” he asks as soon as he sees her.

“Yeah,” she confidently feigns a smile, experienced actress that she is. “Yeah. Varric was just double checking the arrival time of our train to the Frostbacks. All good.”

He nods, but Evelyn can tell he isn't convinced.

 _Guess I'm not as good an actress as people make me out to be_.

“Uhh...that magazine you were reading earlier,” she starts, busying herself with her cutlery to avoid his gaze. “Which one was it?”

“Just a sports magazine,” he replies after swallowing a mouthful of sausage. She can tell from his face that he really wants to inquire after the reasoning behind her question, but he doesn't.

_I can't hide this from him for long. Fuck, what if he has someone waiting for him back home? Worse, what if she's already seen this and yells her head off at him over an enraged phone call?_

_Fucking paparazzi! Those fuckers always ruin everything!_

“Your food is getting cold.”

Evelyn looks up to see Cullen appraising her closely.

“Right,” she mumbles, proceeding to spear some bacon onto her fork and shoving it into her mouth. She swallows without chewing as much as she should have, having lost her appetite since the news.

She looks back up at Cullen when she hears the sound of his cutlery being set on his nearly full plate.

“Forgive me for pressing the matter, Evelyn,” he begins, his eyes surveying her gravely. “But I can tell that something is wrong.”

She blinks at him, uncertain of what to tell him.

_What if he quits? What if all this rumour crap becomes too much for him?_

She is looking at him, hard and clear, and she knows it would devastate her if he were to quit so soon, especially after building such a good rapport in the space of a few days. In fact, if she were being completely honest with herself, the rumour doesn't really bother her. She'd be lying to herself if she didn't wish that some part of it was true.

But it isn't. And as far as she can tell, it might never be. 

“I...well...something _is_ wrong,” she confesses hesitantly, her eyes darting away from his intent gaze.

“What is it?” he prods her softly. “Perhaps I can help.”

Her eyes flicker back to him, and she feels as though she could melt under his direct stare. She swallows to relieve her dry throat and scoots her chair closer to the table.

“It's...” she pauses, giving herself one last chance to deflect the truth with a believable lie.

 _Fuck it, he deserves the truth. I owe him that much, at least_.

“Yes?” he encourages in the same soft manner.

She takes a deep breath and steels herself in preparation for the worst.

“It's about us.”


	4. Irish Coffee

“Us?” Cullen echoes, his eyebrows shooting very high up.

“Err...maybe that came off a little too morbid,” Evelyn mumbles and awkwardly rubs her neck. She bites on her lower lip as she contemplates her next words. Suddenly, she stands up, deciding that showing him would probably be the best option. “Just a second,” she tells a very concerned and bewildered-looking Cullen before she hurries to the magazine stack and pulls the tabloid magazine away from it. She stares at the headline on the cover for a few moments, still chewing on her lower lip, before letting out a loud sigh of resignation and making her way back to their table.

She wordlessly hands him the tabloid before taking her seat across from him, her stomach in knots. She waits for what seems like an eternity as her golden-haired, polo shirt-clad, Adonis of a bodyguard scans the magazine cover with his golden eyes, looking _painfully_ too handsome to be true.

_Andraste's tits, he's going to quit. He's going to quit and I'm never going to see or hear from him ever again. And I'm gonne be left all alone to deal with the bullshit press---_

The sound of a light, amused chuckle shatters Evelyn's stream of thoughts, and she stares at Cullen with wide, disbelieving eyes.

“Is this it?” he laughs, the corners of his eyes crinkling. He looks up at her with an unmistakabley endearing grin. “ _This_ is what you were so worked up about?”

“Uh... yes?”

He chuckles again as he sets aside the magazine and scoots his chair closer to the table. He regards Evelyn with the same endearing amusement for a moment and lightly shakes his head.

“You were worried that a headline on the front of a gossip magazine would bother me?” he asks.

“N-not just that,” Evelyn twiddles her thumbs over her lap, his direct gaze making her face turn incredibly warm. “I was more worried that you would...well... maybe quit because of the trouble that it would cause between you and your partner---”

“Partner?” he blinks, his smile fading away. “You mean, a girlfriend?”

“Well...yeah,” Evelyn shrugs. “Or boyfriend.”

His smile returns as he places his elbows over the table and rests his chin on his knuckles, surveying Evelyn warmly.

“I don't have a girlfriend,” he murmurs, his voice soft enough to be heard only by her. “Or a boyfriend, for that matter.”

Evelyn balks at that, finding it extremely difficult to believe that a man like him could be single.

“You mean...there's no one waiting for you back in Kirkwall?” she clarifies.

“No,” he smiles.

“No one special caught your eye?” she presses on.

The corner of his lip twitches when his crooked smile widens ever so slightly at her disbelief.

“Not in Kirkwall...”

The way he _looked_ at her when he said that...and the way he _said_ it... It was almost as though he was--

_No. Don't be ridiculous, Evelyn. Famous as I am, I'm no Aphrodite by any stretch of the imagination._

“Oh.” Evelyn forces a smile to her face, ignoring her rapidly beating heart. “I...well! That's a relief. For a moment there, I thought I was going to lose my bodyguard over this bullshit.”

Cullen chuckles quietly and dabs at his lips with a napkin after taking a sip of his coffee.

“The tabloids pose no threat to our arrangement, trust me,” he smiles. He pauses then, his expression suddenly serious as he contemplates something. “Tell me something,” he says. “These things happen often enough to you, I imagine. Did this story particularly bother you?”

“It did, actually,” Evelyn confesses. “If the gossip is just about me, then I'm fine with it. I honestly couldn't care less what they write about me. But when it starts involving the people I know and care about, my friends and my family, _that's_ when it really gets to me. I signed up for this bullshit when I decided to become an actress. Everyone else who gets dragged into it didn't. It's just not fair, you know?”

As Cullen nods in response, Evelyn notices that his cheeks and the tips of his ears are visibly flushed, but she can't fathom why on earth that is. A stream of butterflies spring to life in her gut, diminishing any trace of an appetite she might have had after Varric's phone call.

“It's nearly nine,” she remarks, glancing at her Rolex. “Shall we go?”

Cullen's eyes dart to Evelyn's untouched plate of food, his brow furrowing in concern.

“Don't worry about it, I'll grab something on the train,” Evelyn smiles and waves her hand dismissively. Cullen nods, but his expression remains unchanged.

“I returned the car to the rentals office earlier this morning,” he informs her as they both stand up. “We'll have to wait for a taxi to drop us to the station. Would you like to wait here until it arrives?”

“No,” Evelyn smiles, walking around the table to her bodyguard's side. She knows his intention is to protect her from the prying eyes (and camera lenses) of the paparazzi. “I'll wait with you.”

He looks down at her, a small smile creeping across his lips.

“All right, then,” he nods. As they walk towards the reception, his arm brushes against Evelyn's, and her stomach does another one of those fantastic somersaults in response. She sneaks a side glance up at him, wondering whether the touch elicited any reaction from him, but aside from the redness of his ears, his face doesn't give away anything.

It does not take long for the taxi to arrive, but when it does, the pair of them are almost blinded by the mad flashes emanating from the flurry of cameras around them. Cullen, eyes now concealed behind his reflective Ray bans, protectively places his hand on the small of Evelyn's back as he escorts her to the taxi, using his other arm to ward off any photographers that dare venture close to her person.

By the time Evelyn is safe inside the taxi in the backseat, her heart is hammering in her chest, and it has absolutely nothing to do with the mad swarm of paparazzi pressing their noses and cameras against the taxi windows. It has a lot more to do with the bodyguard that just slammed the passenger door shut as he slipped into the backseat beside her, muttering profanities aimed at the media under his breath. It has to do with the way she was hyper aware of his strong, warm palm pressed against her back, the way the scent of his cologne graced her nostrils from his proximity, the way he looked _ridiculously_ sexy in those reflective Ray bans of his...

And he's _single_.

“To the train station, please,” Cullen directs the taxi driver. “And try to lose the media tail if you can. _Safely_ ,” he adds pointedly, his eyes darting towards Evelyn beside him. She smiles when he pulls off his sunglasses and meets her gaze after settling into his seat.

“Are you all right?” she asks softly, resisting a very strong urge to reach out and rest her palm on his knee. His eyes, still exasperated at first, are quickly replaced with a warmth that is starting to become a familiar occurrence.

“I am,” he smiles faintly. “The media can be quite ridiculous at times, is all.”

“That's the understatement of the century,” Evelyn grins. Cullen's smile widens at her comment.

“I suppose I'm just not as used to it as you are,” he says.

“Oh, you will be. If you're planning on sticking around, that is.” She flashes him a flirty smirk as she flips her hair away from her eyes. Cullen stares at her for a moment before clearing his throat and briefly breaking eye contact.

“I am,” he replies softly.

“Good,” Evelyn rests her head back against the backseat, her face still turned towards Cullen. He gazes back at her silently, his golden eyes wandering her face, before he quickly catches himself and looks out the window, his hand flying up to rub the back of his neck.

 _Maker, he's awkward. That's okay, though. I like awkward. Awkward is good_.

Cullen spends the rest of the brief taxi ride with his eyes staring through the glass at the picturesque Orlesian city. He only looks away to glance over his shoulder and make sure that they aren't being followed by the press. Evelyn, on the other hand, seems incapable of wiping the smirk off her face as her eyes continually dart over to him, secretly admiring his profile behind her shades and imagining what it would feel like to run her fingers through his golden curls and gently massage the exposed skin on the nape of his neck.

“Voila,” the driver announces, bringing the taxi to a halt before the _Gare de Royeaux._

“Merci beaucoup, monsieur.” Evelyn reaches over and hands the driver the fare along with a generous tip. Cullen is already waiting by her side of the car, door swung open for her to emerge. He has his Ray bans back on, the glaring morning sun casting an almost ethereal sheen on his golden mane.

Having already purchased e-tickets, they bypass the ticket line (and the awaiting paparazzi) and head straight to platform 2, where their train is already boarding. Trying her best to ignore the staring and pointing from the passengers on the platform, Evelyn walks alongside Cullen to the first class carriages, luggage in tow. She does not breathe easy until they're safely seated in their private carriage. Sensing Evelyn's discomfort, Cullen immediately pulls the mini curtains of the window shut, shielding her from view.

“Thanks,” Evelyn smiles, pulling off her shades and putting them away in their case. “I never get used to the staring.”

“I can't imagine anyone could,” Cullen smiles sympathetically, taking the seat opposite hers. Evelyn returns the smile, her gaze studying his face. She notices the faint dark circles under his eyes, standing out in contrast to his pale skin.

“You look tired,” she remarks, her brow furrowing in concern. “Didn't sleep well last night?”

“I'm fine,” he replies dismissively, his eyes darting to the sliding carriage door. “I wouldn't mind a good cup of coffee right about now, though.”

“I can help with that,” Evelyn grins and pulls out a remote from the side of her seat, pressing on the attendant button to summon one to their carriage. Cullen grins at her, flashing a set of perfect pearly whites.

“Did you have braces as a kid?” Evelyn blurts out before she could stop herself.

 _Holy fuck, I did not just ask him that_.

“No,” Cullen replies with a bemused smile. “Did you?”

“I did, actually,” Evelyn replies, her face turning incredibly warm. “I--” she laughs and shifts awkwardly in her seat, “I'm sorry, that was a really random question. It's just that you have really nice teeth.”

“Oh.” Now it's his turn to blush. “I—thank you.”

“You're welcome,” Evelyn smiles, almost biting down on her lower lip.

_I wanna kiss him. Is it weird that I wanna kiss him? He keeps looking at my lips. Maybe he wants to kiss me too?_

Evelyn nearly jumps when a knock emanates from the other side of the carriage door. A brunette attendant with a severe bun and kind blue eyes pokes her head in.

“Miss Trevelyan,” she smiles widely. “You rang?”

“Yes,” Evelyn clears her throat. “Could we please get two cups of coffee sent over?”

“Of course,” the attendant beams. “What kind of coffee would you like?”

Evelyn shifts her gaze to Cullen, signaling him to go first.

“I'll just have a cappuccino, please,” he smiles politely.

Evelyn clears her throat pointedly, raising her brow at him.

“You're not going to be driving for the next day or so, Mr Rutherford,” she tells him slyly. His scarred lips break into a grin at that, and he lets out a light, amused chuckle.

“All right, then,” he turns back to the attendant. “I'll have an Irish coffee, please.”

“With cream?” the attendant asks.

“Why not?” he replies, glancing back at Evelyn.

“Excellent,” the attendant turns to Evelyn next. “And you, Miss Trevelyan?”

Evelyn smiles at Cullen, never taking her eyes away from his.

“I'll have what Mr Rutherford is having,” she replies.

“Two Irish coffees with cream, coming right up!” the bubbly attendant slides the carriage door shut behind her, leaving the two of them alone once again.

“I'm going to regret doing this, you know,” Cullen tells her, leaning back against his seat.

“And why is that?” Evelyn asks, crossing her legs as she surveys him. She is vaguely aware that the train has started moving.

“I already told you,” he smiles. “Alcohol and I don't exactly mix very well.”

“That's all right; I'll keep a good eye on you.”

 _I mean, I've practically been doing that since I first met you. No biggie_.

The attendant promptly returns with their Irish coffees, setting them and a tray of biscuits and small Orlesian cakes on the table between them.

“Cheers,” Evelyn extends out her cup towards her bodyguard once the attendant leaves.

“Cheers,” Cullen smiles and touches his cup to hers before taking a sip. “Mmm. It's hot.”

“Coffee usually tends to be that way, yes,” Evelyn smirks. Cullen laughs out loud at that and reaches over to the tray to pick up a spoon. He proceeds to scoop up the cream from the coffee and eats it.

“You've got a bit of cream on your lip,” Evelyn points out with a small smile. “Here, let me...”

She leans over without waiting for a response and wipes the speck of cream away with a perfectly manicured finger. She notices his entire body freezing under her touch, his prominent Adam's apple bobbing as he gulps.

“There,” she smiles and wipes her finger on a napkin. “You're presentable again.”

Cullen blinks, apparently speechless for a few seconds. He smiles awkwardly and rubs the back of his neck before taking a gulp of coffee, a few droplets missing his mouth and running down his chin instead.

“Maker's breath,” he mumbles in exasperation, hastily reaching over for a napkin.

“Alcohol getting to you already, Rutherford?” Evelyn laughs.

“That appears to be so,” he chuckles and shakes his head as he checks his white polo to make sure it's stain-free.

As she watches him continue to drink the rest of his coffee, Evelyn racks her brain for any excuse to jump into the seat next to him. Suddenly, in a very cartoon-like ' _ah-ha!_ ' moment, she starts rapidly blinking her eyes, putting on her 'uncomfortable' face as she does so.

“Urgh, I think I have something in my eye,” she complains.

“An eyelash?” Cullen sets aside his coffee and leans forward across the table.

“I don't know, probably,” Evelyn replies, leaning across the table as well. “Can you see anything?”

“No...” Cullen squints his eyes and focuses on her right eye, brow furrowed.

“Wait, lemme come closer...” Evelyn stands up and slides into the seat right beside him. Even she is startled by how close their faces end up, and her heart immediately kicks into overdrive mode, the drumming loud and clear in her ears.

_Maker's breath, what if he can hear it too?_

“I still don't see anything,” Cullen frowns. He raises his hand and softly places his fingers beneath her chin to tilt her face up towards his.

Evelyn freezes. Cullen freezes. In fact, as far as Evelyn is concerned, time itself probably freezes as well. Cullen immediately jerks his hand away, his face turning beet red.

“For—forgive me,” he stammers, leaning away from Evelyn.

“For what?” Evelyn smiles, her eyes flitting to the scar on his upper lip. “You didn't do anything wrong to ask for forgiveness, Cullen.”

He stares at her, the corner of his lips twitching as he fights away a smile.

“It must be some dust,” Evelyn says in reference to her eye. “I'm going to go wash it out in the bathroom. I'll only be a minute.”

Cullen nods and smiles, and Evelyn returns the smile before getting up and exiting the carriage.

Her heart feels as though it is actually about to burst out of her chest. She speed-walks to the bathroom, not making any eye contact with anyone she happens to pass. She bolts the bathroom door shut behind her as soon as she is in, and she leans against the basin, looking up to examine her reflection in the mirror.

Being born with the naturally tan skin of the Trevelyans, her blush isn't as evident as the much paler Cullen's, but boy do her cheeks _burn_. She fixes her hair and curses herself for not grabbing her bag with her to put on a little make up on her completely bare face.

_That was close. That was very, very close. And what the fuck is up with my heart? Did I just run a flipping marathon?_

Evelyn takes a few deep breaths and splashes some cold water onto her face. Once dry, she nods at her reflection in the mirror, a little habit she developed before filming an important scene on set, and steps out of the bathroom, only to find herself surrounded by teenage girls and boys.

“Maker's breath, it really _is_ her!” one girl shrieks.

“I told you!” a heavily freckled boy enthusiastically responds.

“Evelyn! Could I please get your autograph, Evelyn?”

“And a picture! Just one picture, _pleeeease_?”

Evelyn laughs and takes the black marker one of the girls extend out to her and starts signing photographs of herself, barely recognising her own heavily made up and photoshopped face in them. She gracefully poses for what seem like hundreds of pictures with each of the teenagers, but it does not bother her in the slightest. She engages in small talk with her fans, barely noticing when Cullen pops his head out of their carriage further along down the corridor to check on her. He shoots her a questioning glance to ask her if all is well, and she gives him the thumbs up. He smiles and nods before ducking back into the carriage.

Soon enough, Evelyn manages to excuse herself from the gathering and heads back to her carriage, giving the little crowd one last wave before disappearing into her safe haven.

“Phew!” She throws herself back into her seat opposite Cullen. “I didn't see _that_ coming!”

“Did they ambush you on your way to the bathroom?” Cullen looks up from a newspaper with a grin.

“As soon as I stepped _out_ of the bathroom, actually,” Evelyn replies.

“I was beginning to worry,” Cullen confesses. “I thought the Irish coffee got the better of you too.”

Evelyn laughs merrily at his wry humour, feeling more than a little giddy.

“It'll take more than an Irish coffee to take me down, Rutherford,” she smirks. He chuckles and folds the newspaper before setting it on the table before him.

_He could have put it on the empty seat beside him. I mean, isn't that what people do? Fling their things onto the empty seat beside them? Does that mean he's keeping it vacant for me? Does he want to me to sit beside him again? Andraste's tits, I'm over-analysing shit again!_

“You should get some shut eye,” Evelyn tells him, noticing his tired eyes.

“That bad, is it?” he smiles.

“No!” Evelyn nearly jumps out of her seat in her indignance. “I mean, you don't look bad at all. Just a little tired. Nothing anyone else would notice.”

He chuckles beneath his breath and leans back against his seat, allowing himself to sink into the cushion. He practically drifts off to sleep as soon as soon as his eyes shut. Evelyn puts her phone on silent mode and carefully reaches over the table to take his and silence it too. She did that just in time, too, since her phone immediately vibrates when she receives a text message.

**Varric: on your way, gorgeous?**

**Yep.**

**Varric: you okay after that tabloid shit from this morning?**

**Yep**.

**Varric: and lover boy? Any dramas with him?**

Evelyn rolls her eyes at the pet name and glances up at Cullen, now sound asleep.

**Nope. All good.**

**Varric: no surprises there. He probably wishes the gossip was true ;)**

Evelyn's cheeks burn at her manager's response, and she bites down on her lip to suppress a giggle.

**Well, if that's the case, then he isn't alone.**

_Oooh, I totally just went there._

**Varric: ho ho! Looks like someone has it bad for the bodyguard! Can't wait to see you two together in person! A sight to warm the heart, that's for sure**.

Evelyn shakes her head, grinning like an absolute fool. She puts away her phone and rests back into her seat, gazing at Cullen as he sleeps.

_What if Varric's right? What if the news didn't bother Cullen because, like me, he actually wants it to be true? Would that be too much to hope for?_

_Fuck it. I'm tired of what ifs. I'm not a fucking kid in high school. It's time to step up my game_.

 


	5. Takeaway

The rest of the train ride goes without anything too noteworthy, much to Evelyn's dismay. She isn't too sure herself what she expected to happen between her and her supermodel of a body guard, but she certainly didn't picture the pair of them spending the better part of the journey to Ferelden fast asleep. She didn't realise it before, but Evelyn is  _tired_. Not that it has  _anything_  to do with her restless nights since meeting her Mr Rutherford. Oh no. That has nothing to do with it at  _all_.

The synthetic female voice announcing their arrival over the speaker is what jerks her awake from her dreamless slumber. She gingerly sits up straight, rubbing her now sore neck, a direct result of her awkward sleeping posture. It takes her groggy eyes a while to adjust to her surroundings, and when they do, the first thing she notices is Cullen's vacant seat opposite her.

Evelyn quickly grasps the opportunity to check herself in her powder mirror. She is halfway through sprucing up her hair when the carriage door slides open, and Cullen steps in, carrying two wrapped Orlesian baguette sandwiches in his hands and beaming warmly down at her.

"Good afternoon," he greets her as he takes his seat opposite her. "I took the liberty of getting us something to eat. I wasn't sure what you liked, so I chose the safe route and bought you a ham and cheese sandwich."

"Thank you," Evelyn smiles sweetly and takes the baguette from Cullen's hand, unwrapping it immediately. "I'm starving!"

"I thought you'd be," Cullen smiles before taking a bite of his own baguette. "Slept well?"

"I did," Evelyn replies after swallowing her first bite. "A bit too crooked for my neck, but good nonetheless. How about you? You went out like a light!"

"Did I? Travel always makes me drowsy. You should see me on a plane. I don't think I even remember the last time I was awake during landing."

Evelyn laughs out loud at that, covering her mouth with her hand in case there were morsels of food in there. The train stops in the Frostback Mountains not too long after that, and they both grab their luggage and descend onto the platform to see Varric already waiting for them with a warm smile plastered across his face.

"Varric!" Evelyn calls out excitedly, pushing her way through the crowd standing between her and her manager. She literally flies into his welcoming arms, and she grins happily as he squeezes her tight, almost lifting her off the ground in his enthusiasm despite his shorter stature.

"Hey there, beautiful," he murmurs affectionately. "Damn, I've missed you."

"And I've missed you," Evelyn replies, stepping back from the embrace and giving him a tender kiss on the cheek.

"Ah, and there's Curly!" Varric beams up at Cullen.

"Curly?" Evelyn echoes, glancing up at Cullen with a raised brow. He averts his gaze and rolls his eyes with poorly concealed exasperation, the colour quickly flooding to his cheeks and ears.

"With a glorious golden mane like that, what else could I call him?" Varric smirks with a wink directed at Cullen, who purses his lips in response.

"Shall we get a move on?" he asks with all the politeness he can muster. "We've attracted quite a gathering."

Evelyn's head instantly snaps up, and she groans internally when she sees all the eyes and camera phones that are trained on her.

"Let's go," Evelyn murmurs, quickly sliding on her shades as she follows Cullen to the train station's exit. She pauses when she feels a strong, warm fingers wrap around her wrist, and she looks down to see an incredibly smug looking Varric right beside her.

"Looks like  _someone's_  got someone else wrapped around her little finger," he winks, keeping his voice low enough for only Evelyn to hear.

"What the hell are you talking about, Tethras?"

"'Said Evelyn aloofly in an attempt to appear clueless'."

"Oh no, not  _this_  again!"

"What?" Varric chuckles lightly.

"This narrative thing you always pull! Do you do this to everyone?"

Varric smiles warmly and places his hand on the small of Evelyn's back.

"No," he replies light-heartedly. "Just the people I love, gorgeous."

* * *

"Inquisitor, please! I won't let you die!"

Evelyn yanks her hand away from the strong grip of her Commander, tears glistening in her eyes.

"This isn't just about us, Commander. You know that. Thedas' safety is at stake. I  _have_  to do this. Now please," Evelyn tugs her hand again, but the Commander's grasp it too strong around her wrist. "Let me go."

The Commander's lips come crashing down against Evelyn's, and he kisses her chaotically, with the urgency of a man who is certain that he will never be able to kiss his beloved again. He holds on to her, hands desperately clutching at her, pressing her against him as though desperate to forge their bodies into one.

"CUT!"

Evelyn and the man immediately pull apart and step back to a comfortable distance that one would maintain with an acquaintance.

"That was great," the director smiles. "Excellent start to the shoot. Let's all break for lunch and be back here by four, shall we?"

"Good job," the actor opposite Evelyn smiles at her. "I'm not usually accustomed to nailing a scene in one take."

"Neither am I," Evelyn smiles back.

The actor fumbles with his costume armour and looks down at his greaves, giving Evelyn an opportunity to turn around and catch a glimpse of Cullen, who is patiently standing by the camera crew with a takeaway coffee cup in his hand. He smiles at her and gives her a thumbs up, and she beams back at him, feeling that familiar emotional high whenever he was near her.

"Are you off to lunch, then?" the actor asks her, snapping her back to reality.

"Umm, yeah, I am," she turns back to him and replies.

_He's really handsome. I mean, **really**. As in, if it wasn't for Cullen, I totally would be  **super**  into him._

Alistair. Evelyn remembers when he first burst onto the scene ten years ago, taking the film industry by storm with his ridiculously incredible good looks and endearing persona. She was just a teenager back then, and she'd be lying if she denied having more than a few posters of him plastered onto her bedroom walls and school locker.

"Is that your man over there?" he asks with a cheeky grin and the gentlest nudge in her ribs. She raises her eyebrows and follows his gaze, blushing furiously when her eyes land on Cullen. He was already keenly observing the pair of them, so their eyes lock for a second before he quickly diverts his gaze, his hand flying up to perform that trademark neck rub of his.

"Err, no, that's my bodyguard, Cullen," Evelyn smiles politely.

"Why does he seem so familiar?" Alistair asks and scratches the stubble on his chin. "I could swear I know him from somewhere..."

"He was a champion boxer. Maybe you've seen him on TV?"

"Maybe..." Alistair continues to gaze thoughtfully at Cullen before the shrill ring of his phone makes both Evelyn and him jump. "Excuse me," he smiles politely at her. "It's my wife."

"Of course," Evelyn replies sweetly. "I'll see you after lunch."

Evelyn immediately strides towards where Cullen stood, unable to help grinning like a fool when their eyes meet yet again.

"Time for lunch?" he softly asks her with a smile.

"Yes,  _please_ ," she responds. "I'm starving! I'm not even going to change out of my costume. Let's go."

Cullen chuckles and throws his empty coffee cup into a nearby trash can.

"Lead the way," he smiles and gestures with his hands for Evelyn to walk ahead.

Evelyn blushes as she walks towards the set's exit, the butterflies springing into life in her stomach.

"There's a quaint family-owned restaurant not too far from here," she tells him as they descend down a spiraling staircase to the courtyard. "We'd still have to drive though, if we want to make it back on time for the next scene."

"Not a problem," Cullen responds gently. His smooth, soft voice is like a gentle caress to Evelyn's ears.

As they walk side by side to the parking lot beyond the fortress' gates, Evelyn imagines what it would be like to hold his hand. She sneaks a side glance at his right one, her stomach flipping when she sees just how strong and large it is. Her eyes linger on his fingers, pale and long, yet calloused and thick; fingers that belong to a war-hardened soldier.

Thanks to the fortress' secluded location, it is incredibly difficult for the media to harass them here, but Evelyn isn't optimistic about what to expect in the restaurant they are heading to. It is located in a little village called Haven, which has been pretty much off the map until the film producers decided to shoot the production in Skyhold, so she may be in luck, but judging from the attention the little village has been getting since the cast and crew's arrival this morning, the idea of a peaceful lunch seems more than a little improbable at this point.

Once they are in the car, Evelyn finds herself re-living the passionate on-set kiss with Alistair, and she closes her eyes as she imagines Cullen's lips moving so urgently against hers instead. She blushes intensely, the heat radiating through her cheeks when she considers that he is literally less than a foot away, completely oblivious to the vivid workings of her overly-imaginative mind.

"Evelyn?"

Evelyn's eyelids flutter open, and she turns to look at Cullen, a warm smile automatically forming on her lips.

"Yes?"

He holds her gaze for a fraction of a second before focusing on the road again, the smile on his lips mirroring hers.

"I thought you'd fallen asleep," he explains softly.

Evelyn relaxes into her seat and lets out a long breath, still smiling as she admires his perfectly chiseled profile.

"No," she responds. "I was just... thinking, that's all."

"Penny for your thoughts?"

One side of his lips—the side without the scar- stretches to widen his smile, turning it into that trademark crooked grin that never fails to weaken Evelyn's knees.

_Oh, you know. Just fantasising about what it would be like to ravage your lips. No biggie._

"I was just hoping that the paparazzi will leave us alone during our lunch."

_What? I didn't lie! I **was**  thinking about that. Earlier. Before all the kissing took over._

As if right on cue, they turn around the corner in their car and are greeted by a mob of flashing cameras, some of the photographers even going far enough to literally press their cameras against the car windows.

"Fuck! I  _knew_  it! I just fucking  _knew_  it!"

"Don't worry. We'll lose them. There's a tavern not too far from here that not many people know about. Came across it a long time ago when I first joined the army."

"Anything to get away from this madness," Evelyn says, sinking low into her seat and hiding behind her oversized shades.

Cullen skilfully manoeuvres his car around the establishment and drives off into the woods. As he drives them away from the mad flurry of the media, Evelyn turns around in her seat to look out the rear glass, worried about the possibility of being followed.

"They can't tail us in this forest," Cullen tells her reassuringly when he catches a glimpse of what Evelyn is doing. "That's what makes this tavern so hard to find. Only the oldest locals know about it. My friend's father took us there one night when we went on leave for the first time."

"Sounds charming."

Evelyn glances at the time on the dashboard and groans in disappointment.

"We don't have much time left before I need to be back on set," she grumbles.

"It's all right," Cullen smiles. "We'll order it to go."

The smooth and gentle reassurance in the way he speaks to her makes Evelyn feel as though everything will be absolutely fine as long as he is around. To put it simply, she feels safe.  _He_  makes her feel  _safe_.

"Is there anything in particular you'd like to eat?" he asks her as he pulls over the car by the tiny parking lot. "They have all the standard pub grub you'd get in any other tavern in Ferelden."

"Anything you'd recommend?"

He smiles as he unfastens his seatbelt.

"They serve excellent Parmo and chips. That's what I'm getting myself."

"I'll have that too, then," Evelyn says.

"Excellent choice," Cullen grins as he opens the car door and slides out of his seat. "I'll only be a moment."

Evelyn leans across to his side of the car and looks out his open door at where he is standing.

"Are you sure you don't want me to come along and wait with you?" she calls out.

"We'll wait here in the car," he responds with a smile. "One can never be too safe with you ridiculously celebrated actors. You might cause a stampede in there."

He winks at her before turning around and disappearing into the tavern, completely oblivious to the effect that mere gesture had had on Evelyn.

 _Maker's breath_ , Evelyn swallows and sinks back into her seat, resting her head against the headrest.  _Maker's holy breath_.

True to this word, Cullen emerges from the tavern a few moments later, sliding off his Ray bans as he open the car door and gets back inside, the now familiar scent of his musky cologne flooding Evelyn's nostrils.

"All good?" Evelyn smiles.

"All good," he repeats. "Now, we wait. It won't take too long. There's hardly anyone in there."

"Did anyone recognise you?"

"Oddly enough, yes," Cullen responds with genuine surprise. "The bar keep picked me out instantly, even though it's been ten years since I was last here. I was just a boy back then."

"How old are you, anyway?" she asks him.

"Thirty this year," he replies. "You?"

"Twenty two."

His eyes widen at her response, and his eyebrows rise up slightly, clearly surprised by her response.

"I look older, I know," Evelyn smiles knowingly. "I get that all the time."

"N-No! That's not it at all! It's just that...you just seem much more mature than someone in their early twenties, that's all."

Evelyn laughs at his stammered reaction.

"Yeah, I get that all the time, too," she says. "When I was sixteen, people would swear I was in my late twenties. Heck, when I was twelve, I could get into 15 and over movies at the cinema without a second glance!"

Cullen nods with a faint smile, his cheeks still red as he suddenly becomes incredibly fascinated with the steering wheel.

Evelyn silently gazes at him for a moment, taking in his every feature. Her eyes roam over the planes of his face, admiring the chiselled cheek bones and defined jaw, the pointed nose that slightly slopes upwards at the tip, the full, pink lips, slightly pale due to the Frostbacks cold, but otherwise soft and so perfectly...just... _perfect_.

She does not realise that, while she has been lost in her fantasies, Cullen was staring directly back at her. She blinks when she realises this, and her face is flooded with heat, but when he does not look away, neither does she.

They both jump when a sharp knock emanates from the window on Cullen's side of the car, and they look out to see an elderly man carrying a plastic bag with a kind smile on his face.

"Oh, it's our food." Cullen immediately rolls down the window and takes the bag from the man.

"Here you go, young Rutherford," the man says. "Two Parmo's and a side of chips." His grey eyes move over to Evelyn, and his smile widens as she takes her in, his eyes instantly lighting up. "I say, Mr Rutherford! You never told me you got married! And to such a  _beautiful_  young lady, too!"

Evelyn purses her lips to stop herself from bursting out in laughter, and she quickly meets Cullen's gaze, covering her lips with her hand when she sees the deep crimson shade creeping across his cheeks again.

"This is Evelyn Trevelyan, John," Cullen responds politely. "She's...err..."

"Girlfriend," Evelyn cuts in with a confident smile. "A pleasure to meet you, John."

She leans across and extends her hand out for John to shake.

"The pleasure is all mine, my lady," the old man smiles, his kind eyes crinkling.

"Well, we've got a bit of a schedule to stick to, I'm afraid," Cullen says as he restarts the engine. "It was so good to see you again, John."

"And you, Mr Rutherford, and you," John grins, taking a step away from the car. "I can't tell you how happy I am to know that you've met a beautiful lady to call your own. Take care now. And maybe give us a visit sometime before the ten year mark next time, young man. You hear?"

"I hear," Cullen grins and waves at the man before rolling the window back up.

"Wait," Evelyn says. "Aren't we going to pay him?"

"I already have," Cullen responds as he focuses on reversing out of the parking lot. "Back inside when I ordered."

Evelyn frowns at him and crosses her arms, turning to look out the window.

"You didn't have to do that," she mutters.

"I wanted to," he responds simply.

Evelyn feels his gaze on her and turns her head to meet it, all annoyance instantly evaporating as soon as his warm, golden gaze locks on hers.

 _Fuck me, I am so far gone with this guy_.

"Aren't you going to get started on that?" Cullen asks, nodding at the plastic bag of takeaway on her lap.

"I'll wait till we're back in Skyhold," Evelyn replies. "Don't want to mess up the rental now, do we?"

"Don't worry about it," Cullen smiles.

"No, it's all right. I'll wait."

See, the truth of the matter is, it is kind of hard to eat anything when your stomach is tied in knots and filled with butterflies, which is  _exactly_  the state of Evelyn's stomach right now.

They arrive back in Skyhold without incident, and the parking lot is a little more packed with parked vehicles then it was when they left, which meant that they were running late.

"Thanks, Cullen," Evelyn smiles gratefully as they pull over. "For this," she gestures at the lunch on her lap. "And for the whole paparazzi fiasco back there. Honestly, I don't know what I'd do without you."

Cullen pulls up the handbrake and turns off the engine before sitting back in his seat and smiling at Evelyn. He makes no move to get out of the car.

Evelyn feels glued to her seat. Her eyes dart around the deserted parking lot, her heart racing in her chest and almost jumping out her throat.

"I..." she lets out a nervous laugh and tucks her hair behind her ears. "I'm really glad Varric found you. As my bodyguard, I mean."

"I'm glad he approached me," Cullen replies softly.

Evelyn raises her gaze from her lap and up to his face, feeling so nervous, she could throw up.

"Well," she moves a shaking hand to the door handle and starts to open the passenger door. "I'd better get going before the director, Teagan, bites my head off."

Cullen merely nods, silently watching her as she starts to step out of the car. Just as both her feet are out on the ground, she feels a strong, yet warm and gentle set of fingers curl around her wrist, stopping her from moving any further. Surprised, she turns around to see what was wrong, but before her brain could even begin to form any sense of the situation, Cullen's lips cover her own, sending Evelyn into a momentary state of shock.

She gasps, and completely ignoring the plastic bag of food hanging around her wrist, she raises her hands up and snakes them through Cullen's hair, her head spinning and her mind and heart racing.

His strong hands plant themselves on either side of her face and hold her there as he deepens the kiss, a strangled moan escaping through his lips.

Evelyn does not know for how long they sat like that in the deserted car park. She does not know for how long their lips moved against each other, softly and urgently at the same time, with all of their pent up feelings finally given some semblance of expression and release. She does not know how late she is to set, and how angry the cast and crew would be at her tardiness. But, as unprofessional and out of character as it is for her, Evelyn does not care. And neither, judging from his reluctance to let her go, does Cullen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a note about Evelyn's age: she's twenty two in this story and in templar enchanted as well, but only because i'm twenty two and i tend to headcanon my characters as being the same age as me if they don't have a set age in-game. so by all means, please pretend she's your age and just ignore the number. it just makes the story a bit more real to me by including their ages, but it isn't important to the storyline at all.


End file.
